


A Spoonful of Sugar

by bobbiewickham



Series: Les Drabbles [8]
Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:35:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23537719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobbiewickham/pseuds/bobbiewickham
Summary: Joly and Combeferre are self-quarantining, and grumpy about it.
Series: Les Drabbles [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677259
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	A Spoonful of Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt from humble-wayside-flower on Tumblr for Joly, Combeferre, and caring for each other while ill.

“It’s good you sent Bossuet away.” At least, that’s what Joly _thought_ Combeferre said. It was hard to tell, with Combeferre’s nose as congested as it was.

Bossuet had indeed been banished, to take up Combeferre’s apartment, while Joly and Combeferre were self-quarantined in Joly’s. They were unfit for human society, or indeed, for anything but rest–-a concept Joly was having trouble making Combeferre understand. “Put that book down,” Joly said severely, or tried to. He had enough difficulty speaking severely when he was in good health, let along with his nose stuffed and his throat scratchy. 

“Nonsense. I can’t sleep, and this is the only distraction, and…good Lord.” Combeferre angled his head from deep in the pillows to look at Joly. “You look even worse than you did ten minutes ago. I’ll make a tisane.”

“No–-sit _down_ -–” Joly’s command went unheeded. Combeferre stumbled over to make a tisane, utterly disrupting Joly’s organized herb supplies in the process. “Fine,” Joly sighed. “Make one for yourself, too, then.” 

Combeferre, surprisingly enough, saw sense and obeyed: he came back to the pillow-pile on the bed with two tisanes. Joly struggled to pull himself upright. He sipped at the mug Combeferre gave him, and made a face. “You didn’t add sugar.”

“It’s medicine, not dessert,” Combeferre retorted. “Oh, give it to me, I’ll put in sugar–-there, are you happy?”

“Thank you.” Joly took the mug, burrowed back down, and took a swallow of the now-sweet liquid. “And yes.”


End file.
